The Good Left Undone
by Dawning Dusk
Summary: In a failed summoning, Dante lost everyone and everything. Except his daughter. On a dark, stormy night, he flees to Fortuna, his daughter sick for reasons unknown. Nero suspects something of the girl, but Dante is too blinded by love to see it.
1. Chapter 1

He had hoped after he left the town, he would never have to come back under grave circumstances. Ten years had passed since that last meeting. Ten years since he had left without a second glance.

Unfortunately, he was returning and the circumstances bode ill for all those involved.

Especially the small bundle he held in his arms.

A man sat quietly at a small child's beside. He looked tired and worn, and he hadn't moved for nearly a week. Tonight, sleep had finally gotten to him, his upper body collapsed on the bed, his alabaster white hair spread around his head in a halo, the color glowing in the dark room. He was holding the hand of his small daughter, her hand engulfed by his. He kept his eyes shut peacefully despite the situation.

The girl had a high fever, lying in bed for a week. She rarely woke up, and she hardly ate. Her fever had recently broken 100 degrees, topping out at 104.

She was only four, and her life was being cut short.

A soft cough aroused her father from his sleep. He sat up slowly, yawning before fixing his blurred silver-blue eyes on his daughter—again the color seemed to glow in the dark.

She was gasping weakly, a pitiful mewling escaping her lips.

Her father sighed softly and ran his free hand over his face. He was getting too old for this. With a rumble of his stomach—or was that thunder?—he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. However, he became worried when she didn't respond to him squeezing her hand.

"Nero!" his voice was laced with urgency, a foreign tone to those who knew him.

"What?" a grumbling voice called. Another ivory-haired man entered, a small strip of light illuminating his face from the door open. His hair was clinging to his face and dripping, wet. He was drenched, holding his sopping wet shirt and jacket in one hand. Outside, the rain pouring and lighting crashed through the closed curtains. The brief flash illuminated the room, revealing its furnishings and occupants.

There was a single bed, housing the little girl. She looked frail and weak, her eyes shut tightly and her face sweat-drenched. Her hair was such a blond it seemed white.

There was an old oak chair next to the bed, looking too uncomfortable for her father to feasibly sleep no matter how exhausted he was with a red coat adorning the back. There was a matching oak nightstand, a lamp resting there which had hardly been used, and a jar that held some kind of lime-green liquid. There was a bag in the corner, holding the girl and her father's clothes, a small dresser, and a closet with closed doors.

The new-comer, Nero, was soaked to the bone, his wet jeans clinging to his legs and leaving an ever-growing puddle around his boots. He was glaring at the girl's father with soft blue eyes, but he looked exhausted as well—his skin pink from behind slammed by the rain.

The girl's father stood taller, about a foot and a half. His hair was longer, as though it would get in his face a lot, but didn't successfully hide his silver-blue eyes dripping in worry. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a white, the five o'clock shadow starting to grow to a prickling beard—showing that he was the elder of the two. He wore a skin-tight black shirt and baggy jeans, the belt he wore doing little good. He was barefoot, bright white socks standing out in the slight flash of light.

And it was dark again.

"Nero, she won't wake up," the older man said softly. His voice seemed to break in worry.

"… She's sick, Dante," The youth said patiently, "She needs to sleep. Just relax."

"I can't relax!" her father, Dante, mewled as pitifully as his daughter had, "You _know_ she's all I have, Nero."

"Dante, lets get you fed," Nero murmured, "Kyrie made dinner. I'll watch her for you."

"…" Dante didn't move, gazing sorrowfully back down at his daughter. He was still holding her small hand, watching her small chest rise and fall as she breathed weakly. His eyes closed slightly, starting to water painfully.

He gave a soft sniffle, running his free hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"… I'll eat," Dante murmured softly, "Let me know… If she wakes up."

"I will," Nero said, starting to usher Dante toward the sweet aroma drifting in the door, "She'll be fine. You'll see."

Dante stood there a moment longer before setting her tiny hand down on the blankets. She whimpered softly, her eyes closing tightly for a moment.

"… Daddy…" Her voice was soft, almost velvet.

"I'm here, baby," Dante said softly, kissing her forehead, "I'm here."

Her eyes fluttered slightly, opening a bit, "… Daddy…?"

"… Yeah?"

"I'm hungry…" She mumbled. Dante smiled.

"All right. We'll get you fed baby," Dante told her, still smiling. His smile was goofy and lopsided, a hint of mischievousness lurking in the curve of his lips.

Nero sighed softly. Dante was smiling again—his true smile. Not the broken, painted mask he'd been wearing for days. It was real. Genuine.

"Nero?"

"I'll get her some food," The youth said, backing out of the room and closing the door.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?" Dante asked, kissing her forehead again. Even going through hell and back, the heat of her skin burned.

"… I'm warm… I don't feel good."

"I know, baby. You'll feel better," Dante said.

"… When though, Daddy…?" she asked, mewling.

"Soon," Dante smiled, kissing her forehead, "Soon."

Nero returned then, turning on the light. The room was flooded by the warm glow and the girl blinked several times before her eyes adjusted. When the pupils changed to accommodate the light, the color of her eyes shifting in the light.

"Hey, squirt," Nero grinned at her, setting a bowl of soup on the nightstand.

"Uncle Nero," She grinned, sitting up slightly.

"Uncle Nero was starting to worry you wouldn't wake up," Dante grinned childishly.

"No, I wasn't! I knew she would!" Nero objected.

"That's because I told him you were my little trooper," Dante grinned, ruffling his daughter's hair. She giggled, smiling at them.

Both men were relieved, but it seemed too coincidental. Only a few moments ago, she had shown no sign of recovery, but now…

Nero gave Dante a serious look, but the older man was too enthralled with his daughter.

The youth was suspicious. Dante's daughter had always been different, too different to even be a half demon. With those eyes of her's….

Nero was brought back to reality as Dante snapped his fingers in front of the man's face.

"Huh? What?" Nero blinked, swatting Dante's hand away.

"Where's Solace? I think he'd wanna see Phantasia, don't you?" Dante grinned.

"He's sleeping," Nero said distractedly, "I'll tell him in the morning."

"You look tired," Dante commented.

"I am. You're tired too. Get her fed and get some rest, Dante," Nero said, going for the door, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Dante muttered, stirring the soup for his daughter. Nero gave a dismissive wave, heading down the hall.

As he walked, his brain was like a bullet-train. How could she have recovered already? A fever that high didn't disappear so quickly.

The oak paneled hall seemed longer than usual that night.

**Hey guys! :D Yeah, its been a while. I got the opening paragraph as an idea while in English lol.**

**Well, I've been told I can't kill off the daughter by one person now. I can kill her off and still have the story continue or keep her alive and still continue it. Whatcha think?**

**And if you notice, Dante mentions that she is all he has. Hmmm…. Wonder what happened to Lady and Trish and the shop ;D And Patty.**

**Rate, comment, opinions?**


	2. Chapter 2

Despite his exhaustion, Nero didn't immediately go to bed. Instead, he went to his bookshelf in the front room. There, the ceiling stretched high, probably higher than he or Dante could jump. The bookshelf followed suit of the ceiling, reaching as high as possible. Nero could remember when he would have to get a book for Kyrie, and it made him smile.

He shook the thought away. That was not why he was here. He ran a hand through his hair. However, the hand wasn't human. From his shoulder blade to his finger tips it was red and blue, covered in large scales. Where the skin should have shown trough, it was glowing, the color changing as his mood shifted.

That was the hand he used to pull a book from the shelf.

The book he retrieved was a thick volume with a blank, black cover. Gold writing was sprawled on the side, but was too archaic to read. Nero thumbed through the pages; the ruffling paper was the only other sound occupying the house besides the storm outside.

He stopped in the middle of the book. Nero found it nearly impossible, but the girl was….

After she had eaten, Dante had curled up with his daughter on the bed, cuddling her close. She curled into her father's chest, her fingers clutching his shirt tightly. She was still mewling, her skin burning to the touch.

Dante still had that stupid grin plastered on his face, sound asleep. He was snoring softly, keeping his daughter pinned close. He looked happy—as though he were having the best dream ever.

His daughter, however, was wide awake. Her eye color continued to change as she started at Dante's chest. She was remembering the night before.

The night they had lost it all.

_She, Antasia, was supposed to be in bed. Dante had let her stay up and watch. Lady, clad in her skimpy white suit, was standing next to Dante, showing him some ancient text. Trish was setting up, drawing symbols on the shop's old wooden floor, accentuating the points with candles. Antasia, was watching patiently nearby not allowed to help. However, it went downhill from there._

_Dante and Lady had started reciting the spell to summon—a demon known as Bellezenef. Trish had been cradling Antasia when the explosion happened, the shop shattering around them. The young girl survived because Trish had turned her away from the blast. When the smoke cleared, the shop lay in ruins._

_The timber was still and silent. Nothing was left of the shop; the jukebox that seemed to survive everything was even destroyed. Wood shifted and Dante sat up, shoving timber aside and coughing. His clothes were torn, blood matting his hair._

"_Lady, what was….?...!"He turned to find the brunette, but turn his back on her immediately. The sight was something not even the great demon hunter could handle. _

_The body was burned, or at least what was left. All he could see was the upper half of her body. The skin was black and caked with dust and debris._

"_Trish…!" his voice was hoarse as he started to climb the timber, "Trish!"_

_It was then that heard the sniffling, pathetic mewling made by his daughter._

"_Antasia!" Dante lost his footing and he tumbled down the other side of the timber, sending up a plume of dust._

"_Daddy!" A muffled voice called._

_Dante hurried through the wreckage, stumbling over the broken boards of what used to be the ceiling and second floor. He stopped quickly when he stepped on a board and something underneath crumbled under his step. He feared the worse._

"_Antasia?" He lifted what he thought was part of the ceiling. He inhaled sharply at the sight before him. The body hidden beneath the wood was black and crumbling, the ashen skin being lifted in the breeze, "… Trish…"_

_He felt a tear drop from his eye—a rare occurrence._

"_Daddy…"_

_He blinked back to reality as the body started to shift before it fell apart all together. Dante blinked in horror, angered that someone would disturb the corpse._

_When the ash settled, Dante found Antasia chocking on her mother's ashes._

"_Daddy…"_

_Dante blinked, worried as he lifted Antasia up and brushed the ashes from her face. She was crying, the ash turning to mud as the tears hit it. He watched her a moment, stunned before holding her tight to his chest, pressing his face to her hair._

_She was alive. They were alive._

_Dante managed to salvage a blanket for her, wrapping her up. As the day drug on, Antasia fell ill. She had a terrible fever and refused to wake. Not knowing what to do, or where to go, Dante fled to Nero's._

_He explained all that he could to Nero about what had happened and was let in. The petite brunette, Kyrie, kept an eye on Antasia while Dante attempted to tell Nero more details about the occurrence._

_Without another place to go, Dante and Antasia stayed._

Dante stumbled over a snore, grumbling softly. Antasia shuffled a bit; she was getting warm, overheating in his grasp.

"Hey, Dante?" Nero was at the door again.

"Mmn? What?" Dante grumbled, rubbing his face with a hand before closing his eyes again.

"I need to talk to you about Bellezenefe… and Antasia," Nero said hesitantly. Dante froze, nearly smothering Antasia.

"Nero, I don't want—"

"I need to talk to you. It's important, Dante. You need to hear it," Nero's voice was strained with seriousness. Dante reluctantly gave a groan and slowly relinquished Antasia as he sat up. It took a few moments but Dante crawled off the bed and to the door.

Nero had vanished through the beam of light and was pacing in the hall. He knew the older man would not be pleased with what he had to say. However, it was too important to ignore.

"What is it?" Dante sighed, stepping out through the door. He looked exhausted, his hair messier than usual.

"You told me everything had burned, right?" Nero asked, "Save for you and Antasia?"

Dante's eyes flashed, "I don't want to talk about it, kid."

"This is important though, Dante."

"I don't care," Dante grumbled, going for the room.

"… She's possessed, Dante," Nero said softly. Dante froze before turning to Nero slowly.

"_What?!_"

**Dun Dun Duuuuuuuuuuuun. Cliff hanger. I have the next handful of chapters hand written, but I'm too lazy to type them xD I'll get the next up ASAP.**


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